Legend of Zelda: Echoes of the Past
by Neat
Summary: It's been about 6 years since Ganondorf was defeated and now a new fiend from the desert threatens to overthrow the delicate balance of peace in Hyrule. Can one archer be enough to finally put an end to an age of terror? Set after OoT.


Melora pulled the quilt over her head and snuggled deeper down into her bed. The birds were singing outside, and the sun was streaming in the open window. By all accounts it was a good day. A perfect day for archery, except Melora just wanted to go back to sleep. The sounds that had awakened her had been those from the central room. Inside that room chaos was ensuing and the only thing separating Melora from the tornado of energy was the door to the sleeping quarters. For now.

It didn't take long before the bedroom door burst open and slammed in turn. Melora's head was still under the covers but she could guess what was going to happen next. Melora felt a figure flop down across the bed, across her curled up body. The day was already warming nicely and the added heat of the new body was making beads of sweat form on Melora's skin. 

"I'm awake," she grumbled.

"Good!" was the response she received. The covers were pulled back from her ears and a voice whispered, "Get up. Don't you remember what today is?"

"How could I forget?" The quilt was being snatched back. "You volunteered me." Melora felt bare without the blanket, laying only in her night dress, but she couldn't be ashamed in from of her most loyal friend, Lania. She opened her eyes to get a peak at her friend. Her gaze was met with twinkling green eyes. Lania's long auburn hair flowed freely down her back. It stopped at her waist but not before the ends curled into loose ringlets. "I'm angry at you."

"Why!" Lania's sparkling eyes were suddenly filled with a question. 

"Well, first of all, you entered me into a contest I don't want to participate in." Melora rose from the bed to her short stature of 5'1". "Secondly, you knew the contest was for males only. You expect me to dress up like a man?" She walked to the small vanity across the room and began to brush her hair. The brunette of her hair caught the light as she was brushing. It made a kind of bronze shimmer dance through the strands. It fell down her back in a straight cascade.

"But, Melora - !" Lania stammered, "Think of the reward! What all could we do with 500 rupees? You could buy a new bow and quiver! And lots of arrows..." She was playing on Melora's love: archery. "Just think of all the handsome men that will be there! We're courting age, after all." Now Lania was playing on her own love: males.

"They won't be looking at me! I'll be one of them!"

"Then do it for me?" Lania looked hopefully at Melora. "Wouldn't you get a satisfaction out of knowing you beat all the boys?" She pulled off a pack that was hanging across her shoulders. "I've got everything you might need..."

------------

Melora wasn't sure how she'd been talked into it, but she was at present hiding behind a tree while Lania was standing watch.

"I'll tell you if someone's coming. Just hurry it up," Lania pushed.

They'd left Kakariko Village, Melora and Lania's home village, about an hour previously. Lania had brought Melora some of her elder brother's clothing, a head wrap, a straw hat, and a beard made from horses' tails. The clothing was simple enough; it was just a square cut tunic and baggy pants made from some kind of burlap material. The head wrap and straw hat were annoying, however. Her head was sweating. And the beard was another story entirely. It was itchy and hot and uncomfortable. Melora suited up and patted through the material on her head at the sweat beads that she could feel running down her scalp. 

She emerged from behind the tree and mounted her horse. Lania laid her eyes upon someone who looked very different from her old friend and very different from a female. The beard was the finishing touch. Melora looked like your average male drunkard.

"Do I look manly?" she asked Lania.

"Very convincing," Lania assured her. "Now, just focus on the contest. Nothing but you, bows, arrows, and that 500 rupee prize." Lania licked her lips. Melora knew she was imagining the things she'd like to talk Melora into buying. Melora chanced a look at Lania and saw dancing gems in her eyes. 

"Well, let's go. I mean..." Melora cleared her throat and spoke again in a gruff, deep voice, "Let's go."

They rode their horses for about three quarters of an hour through the grassy plains of Hyrule Field before they reached the bridge to Hyrule marketplace. The horses' hooves made a pleasant clop clop noise that echoed underneath the bridge in the water-filled moat surrounding the castle. The wooden bridge turned to gray cobblestone once they were inside the stone brick walls of protection. The sun shown directly overhead, lighting the central area. Many people were standing around the stone fountain in the middle of the square, talking and laughing. Children were playing and someone's pet dog was running around causing trouble. Against one wall of the square was a line of booths advertising items from shields and armor to bombs and potions. One was selling a creamy broth and Melora's stomach growled. 

Against the opposite wall was a large, roped off area about 50 yards long. At one end of the area was several round targets. So this was where the archery contest would take place. Melora's heart began to race faster as they dismounted their horses and led them to the stables by the concession booths. She pulled the quiver across her head and shoulder so that the strap rested across her breasts and crumbled the tunic. Thankfully, her womanly figure was still hidden beneath the layers. She began to look around, scoping out her competition. Of course, they were all men. Some would have looked intimidating if it were a wrestling match. All of the competitors were stronger than Melora, hands down. How could a small young woman be able to face any of them if it were all about strength? But archery was a game of skill, not muscle. It was just a bow, an arrow, and the archer's single eye staring down the length of the wooden spear. Melora was something of a genius at archery in her village. Everything she did was pure instinct. She knew how to shoot against the wind. The force and precision with which she shot the arrow was always accurate, no matter how far away the target was. Sometimes the arrows were clearly imperfect. Melora could shot them with the same accuracy as if there was not an impurity on its length.

"So when does this contest start?" Melora asked Lania, who was taking a bite of some cornflour covered food on a stick.

"Soon," Lania looked at the sun. "In fact, I think some people are already forming a sign up line." They scurried to the line of bow-holding men. At the front of the line the men would bend over a piece of parchment sitting on a table. The signing up was being supervised by an attractive boy not much older than Melora's and Lania's eighteen years. When Lania noticed the young man she immediately threw her snack to the side and began primping. Melora felt a little depressed that she couldn't participate in the conversation that her best friend was about to have with the cute boy. She silently fumed while the line slowly made its way to the front. When they finally reached the booth Melora scribbled down a fake name ("Artemis Sprout") and Lania made small talk with the young man. Melora walked away to focus. She stood facing a cold, stone wall. The contest would be starting soon. She envisioned her hand at the back end of an arrow, pulling it tight against the bowstring. The tip of the arrow would rest calmly on her pointed index finger, unaware of the tension that was about to send it rocketing straight for its mark. 

The boy taking names stood up as the last man was writing his name. 

"Contestants, take your place in line. The match will soon begin," he announced.

Melora stood seventh in line. Each competitor had his own target with his number pasted on it. Melora hoped she would be able to see with the head wrap and straw hat. When the wind blew the beard would rustle up to her nose and flow inside her nostrils when she inhaled. She'd already sneezed several times. Now would not be a good idea for that to happen.

All the men were lined up in front of their targets. The boy, who Melora figured to be the announcer and some kind of relation to whoever was sponsoring the event, walked behind the row of men. 

"Gentlemen, ready your bows and arrows."

Melora heard a swish cascade through the line as each man reached into the quiver on his back and pulled out a single arrow to steady on his bow. A crowd was gathering around the competition area. Melora wished the mothers would take their children away. What if an arrow flew stray? Creaks were heard as each archer pulled back the bow strings, readying their aim.

"You may release your arrows when I say," the boy continued, "GO!"

Melora didn't know if the boy really meant it was time to release or not. She stood still for a moment until she heard the swoosh of other arrows flying. Many fell halfway there or stuck the targets near the bottom of the painted red rings. Melora quickly took aim and let the arrow soar toward the round circle in the center of the round board. The arrow found its mark and sunk in to the soft fabric of the target. She looked down the line of bulls-eyes and saw a few other boards with arrows stuck in the center. 

"Will the gentlemen with target numbers 3, 7, 10, and 11 please remain?" the boy asked politely. "All the other contestants, step aside. You are no longer competing." Melora saw the men who didn't hit their targets step back, leaving the remaining archers standing together. At the end of the area by the targets four young men were setting about moving four targets back further away from the contestants. "For the remainder of the contest, we will have rounds. Each round we will move the target back ten yards. When an archer misses his mark, he must fall back. He will no longer be in the contest. The last man to hit his mark wins. Gentlemen, take your place." The archers readied their bows and arrows for the second time. "Fire when ready," the young man announced. Snaps were heard as the men released their arrows. Two arrows hit their marks on the red center of the bulls-eyes. 

"Archers 3 and 7 remain. Everyone else, clear the area!" The targets were being moved back another ten yards. Melora looked at her only opponent. He was a stocky man in his mid thirties. His upper arms bulged slightly from muscles gained by years of practicing archery. His light blond hair was shaved close to his head. Melora looked at the man and thought that she should be afraid. Any normal girl would be wary of a man that looked like he could break her across his knee. Melora didn't waver. This was a contest for archery, and Melora could beat any man in archery. 

"Gentlemen, take your positions." Melora was getting really tired of being thought of as a man. She hoped she wouldn't have to give a speech. That would give away her disguise. She was ready to just shoot her arrows, beat the man standing down from her, get her prize, and leave. As she drew her arrow out of the quiver and began to position it on the bow, a dry, sandy breeze swept through the square. She sneezed and quickly adjusted her beard. The grains of sand stuck in her eyes and she blinked several times before opening them again. She looked around to see if the crowd had noticed anything and they had; many people were brushing at their eyes and surveying everyone else. A dark cloud rolled across the sky and Melora felt the air grow drier and warmer. She was tugging at the collar of her tunic to allow air to circulate when she saw them: three cloaked figures on black horses. The hands that held the reins were black and charred looking, as if they'd been cooked. In the shadow of each of the hooded cloaks two glistening red eyes were visible. One of the creatures dismounted and stepped forward. 

"We've come to collect the winner of the archery competition," the being announced in a strained, cackling voice. The voice held a high-pitched, shrieking quality, but resonated with a deep bass as if it were male and female simultaneously. A few members of the crowd gasped and stepped back. Mothers grabbed their children and hid them in the folds of their skirts. A woman near the back let out a squeal and Melora watched as the crowd decayed into turmoil. People began to run and scream, trying to get away from the monsters on horseback that carried heat and sand with them. The being began advancing towards Melora. She stood frozen with fear for a few seconds before she began grappling in her quiver for an arrow. The creature moved towards her with a speed so great she couldn't see and picked her up by her right wrist. The being sniffed at her from somewhere inside the shadows and then tossed her to the side. Melora looked up in time to see the monster grab her competitor. This time the creature threw the hostage over its shoulder and returned to its horse. Melora could barely see its movements, as if it were teleporting from place to place. The creatures turned on their horses and rode away, their path masked by a thick cloud of air born sand. 

Melora stood up, thoroughly confused by the events that unfolded. Most of the chaos was over; all but a few of the bystanders had run away to some safe place. Lania's and Melora's horses were gone, probably stolen by someone who wanted to make a quick exit. Lania was no where in sight. Melora began to run back to the entrance to the castle. Where could she have gone?

Melora was nearing the bridge when she heard a galloping approach her from behind. She looked over her shoulder to see a man on horseback riding towards her. He turned and cut off her exit. Melora dropped to her knees.

"Please don't hurt me!" she cried, completely forgetting to speak in a masculine voice. She heard the man's feet hit the ground and the rustle of grass as he walked forward to her. Melora felt him grip her arm and pull her to her feet.

"Why not you?" he asked her crossly and quickly. 

"What do you mean?" Melora stared at the ground. 

"Why didn't they take you? You're better than that other man! Why did they refuse you?" Melora looked at the young man. He was only half a decade older than her, maybe 23 at most. His ears were slightly pointed and one was adorned with a single golden hoop at the lobe. His eyes were a fierce blue and were full of questions and anger. His golden blond hair was wind swept under a green hat. The garb that he wore was a green tunic and silver tights with brown boots and gloves: a costume reminiscent of forest life. He gave her a good shake. "Why not you?"

Melora lifted her left hand to her head, threw off the hat, and unwound the wrap. She dropped it to the ground and pulled off the beard, revealing her identity.

"You're..." he looked stunned, "A woman?" 


End file.
